


Delicate, hand wash only

by mollynoble



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sharing a Bath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollynoble/pseuds/mollynoble
Summary: “Hey, Buck, what do you need?” Clint moved closer, he wanted to reach out but he resisted the urge, that could be a bad idea right now. “What can I do to help?” He pitched his voice low and soothing.There was a pause, then Bucky's eyes focused on him. “Right now all I want is a bath and then sleep.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 17
Kudos: 110
Collections: Winterhawk Wonderland - 2020 edition!





	Delicate, hand wash only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pherryt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/gifts).



The silence in the quinjet was starting to freak Clint out a little. Being patient and quiet were not his strong suits and he simply couldn't take it anymore.

“So, umm… that was, uh, a thing that happened.” As soon as that trainwreck of a sentence left his mouth Clint wanted to punch himself in the head. Instead he just cringed and shot a look out of the corner of his eye to see what Bucky’s reaction was.

Bucky just grunted in acknowledgment of Clint’s statement and continued to sit unmoving, staring out the front windshield. Clint took a deep breath and kept his mouth shut. Right now they were trapped on the quinjet --better to wait until they got back to the complex before attempting a heart-to-heart again.

On paper the mission had been a success. The Hydra base was a smoking ruin, the agents encountered were either dead or in custody, the files were downloaded, and all the interesting looking tech had been collected. The final blast to blow the building had gone off a tad early, which had meant Clint had a few minor cuts from shrapnel and his left hearing aid must have been damaged since it kept cutting out. But he wasn't _really_ injured and none of the SHIELD agents had so much as a scratch—plus if Clint had managed a mission without any injury at all it would be a miracle. So it was a success. 

Expect for the fact Bucky had barely said a word since they had found the room with the chair. Clint had seen enough of Bucky’s file to know what that chair had been used for. He’d been the one on point when they’d entered the room so he hadn't been able see Bucky’s face when the lights had flickered on revealing the chair surrounded by monitors, medical stuff, and that weird apparatus thingy that Hydra had used to scrambled Bucky’s brain. Considering just _knowing_ what that chair was for had made him feel sick, he couldn't even begin to imagine how Bucky felt. 

Bucky seemed okay though. He hadn’t freaked out or anything, just cleared the right of the room while Clint cleared the left and then they moved on to the next room. And that was it. Normally there was more banter while working together, but that was before the room with the chair. Bucky failing to comment on Clint nearly blowing himself up was also unusual.

They were headed back to the Avengers complex in the quinjet now, Clint flying and Bucky sitting in the copilot chair. Normally Bucky would be on his phone texting Natasha or looking at Russian cat memes. Instead he was just staring out the windshield with his patented murder stare. Clint was sure the whole being confronted with what was a textbook example of a trauma trigger was worth a freak out. He just wasn’t sure when it would happen or what it would look like. He felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the shoe was a bomb and he was in the middle of a frozen lake about to be both blown to bits and simultaneously plunged to his death in freezing water. So maybe that was mixing metaphors but Clint had never claimed to be good with words.

He shot another look to his side and Bucky had closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Clint knew he was meditating rather than sleeping. The shrinks were always trying to get him into it but he’d never really seen the appeal -- not that he’d tried very hard. Bucky was a fan though; he said the whole mindfulness thing was helpful with his memories. They had just under an hour of flight time left and he was determined to be quiet and let Bucky do his zen thing until they got back. 

He and Bucky had been friends for a while now, but they'd tipped into more than friends territory at some point. He still wasn’t really sure how they had ended up here. He absolutely knew how to be a good friend, but he also knew being a good boyfriend was not his strong suit. And he knew Cap would kill him if he futzed up like he normally did and broke Bucky’s heart. So, as per usual, he was flying by the seat of his pants and hoping for the best.

Back when Cap brought Bucky in, after the whole dumping a couple helicarriers in the Potomac thing, Clint had been on the short-list of people to know about it. He’d been laid up with some busted ribs and a nasty ankle sprain so they’d both been stuck in the complex together. When Bucky would get sick of the well intentioned poking and prodding from the medical and psych teams, he’d appear silently at the end of the couch Clint had claimed as his own and watch whatever trash TV Clint was currently binging. 

At first he’d just sit and watch without comment, but Clint was practiced at reading deadly assassin body language and so he figured out Bucky preferred the _Great British Bake Off_ to _Top Chef,_ and had no interest in _The Walking Dead_ but clearly loved _The Bachelor_. It wasn’t long until they were heckling the _Shark Tank_ contestants together. When Clint was healed enough to be cleared for duty, he went back to his apartment. He found himself returning to the complex in between missions, even when he had no reason to, just to hang out with Bucky. 

Bucky was eventually put on a probationary Avenger status and they’d got to work together. They had fallen into sync so easily and quickly that they were always paired up. Post mission debriefs rolled over into getting pizza and beers together. Then one day they were making out on the couch instead of watching _Dog Cops_. Somehow, when Clint wasn’t paying attention, they were suddenly _together_. 

He's preparing to land the quinjet and still had no clue what to say. If he was a good boyfriend he’d know what to do but all he’s got so far is not making things worse by trying to chit chat. Now that they're back though he’s gonna have to do something. He’s still mentally scrambling for what that something should be when the quinjet touches down with a slight jolt. Bucky stood as he turned off the engines. He didn’t say anything but he waited while Clint flipped switches, hung up the headset and got up. They gathered their weapons and walked out the back quinjet, just like any other mission—except for the tense silence. Well... tense for Clint at least. Maybe he was reading too much into it; it's not like he knew what was going on in Bucky’s head. Maybe he was fine and Clint was just being an idiot getting all worried for nothing. 

As they walked down the ramp there was enough wind to whip Bucky’s hair around and the sun had already begun to set even though it was barely five pm. Clint hunched his shoulders and tipped his chin down, trying to tuck his nose into the collar of his jacket and they both hurried to get out of the cold and inside. The debrief was mercifully quick, Hill mostly just wanted the tech they’d pocketed and the files they’d downloaded. Once she waved them out of the room, Clint started toward the kitchen with thoughts of coffee and pizza but Bucky grabbed him by the shoulder of his jacket. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Bucky’s hand continued griping Clint’s jacket when he turned to face him and they made their first solid eye contact since the beginning of the mission.

Clint pointed over his shoulder. “Kitchen, coffee, food?” He was answering Bucky's question in theory but it came out as a question itself.

“Ah, no way buddy, we’re going to medical.” Bucky turned and headed that direction, his grip on Clint’s jacket pulling him along behind. Clint would have happily followed him just about anywhere, even without Bucky's hold leading him in the opposite direction of the coffee.

“Umm okay, why?” Clint asked as they turned the corner. “Wait, are you hurt?” He came to an abrupt stop in order to try and check Bucky over. Maybe the reason he was being quiet was because he’d taken a hit that Clint hadn’t seen. It was 100% in character for him to sit quietly while bleeding internally and not say anything. 

“I’m fine, idiot, you're the one who looks like you stood too close to an explosion. Oh, that's right, ‘cause you _did_ ,” Bucky huffed, getting them moving in the direction of medical again.

“Oh right.” Clint had forgotten about that and his face did sting from a number of cuts with the reminder. And now that he was thinking about it, his side hurt too. As they neared the door he looked down and noticed for the first time that his jacket was ripped and, “Oh look I’m bleeding,” he announced as they entered medical.

It turned out to be a minor laceration across his ribs, nothing serious. The whole time the med team was working on him Bucky had stood glowering, not too close to get underfoot but only just. His glower was particularly fierce while the nurse cut off Clint’s shirt. Clint did not notice either the nurse's attention or Bucky’s glare. A few stitches, some bandages, and a concussion test later and he was allowed to leave. 

When they were back in the hallway Clint looked down at himself and said, “Well I guess I’m gonna need a new shirt.” He had a hospital gown clinging to his broad shoulders, incongruous over his tactical pants and boots, and his torn jacket over his arm. “I don't’ really feel like freezing to death on the way back to my apartment -- maybe I’ve got a change of clothes in the locker room.” He didn't have much hope for that since it was _him_ after all and keeping a clean set of clothes handy was not really his style.

“You can stay here,” Bucky said, his eyes on the ground, “No reason to go back out tonight.”

“Yeah, guess I could crash in one of the extra bunks around here.” Clint looked around absently, not really sure where he would find said bunk. “Or the couch in the rec room?”

Bucky looked up to meet Clint’s eyes “No, you can stay here _with me_.” He must have been amused by the expression on Clint’s face since his lips twitched into a small smile. 

“Come on, this way.” He jerked his head to the right and set off down the hallway. Clint followed. He may have been a disaster but he was not an idiot and when your hot boyfriend invited you to stay the night you did not say no.

Bucky hadn't gotten his own place yet and was staying in one of the rooms at the Avengers complex. There had been more than a few arguments between Cap and Bucky about it. Cap wanted Bucky to move in with him to his Brooklyn apartment. Bucky said he didn't want to be underfoot, that he was fine here for now. Bucky had been to Clint’s apartment before but he’d never been invited to Bucky’s room before. When they had hung out at the complex it was always in the common areas. 

Clint hadn't really thought much about it but now that he was following Bucky into a wing he’d never been to he realized this might be a big deal. They had only ever made out, a little groping and light humping, and now Bucky was inviting him to spend the night. And Bucky was definitely still acting kinda weird after the whole chair incident. This was almost definitely not a romantic invitation but Clint didn’t know what the protocol was for when your boyfriend was probably having some kind of dissociative moment. Clint had told Bucky about his depression but Bucky hadn’t really gone into detail with his own issues. Clint was determined to give him time to open up but it now meant he didn’t have a clue how to handle whatever this was. 

Before Clint had time to start panicking about messing up and hurting Bucky they arrived at a door. Bucky placed a hand on the scanner and the locks clicked open. 

“That’s handy. I’m always losing my keys,” Clint noted.

“I’m sure if you ask Stark nicely he’ll send someone over to your place to put one in,” Bucky answered as he shouldered the door open and led the way in.

“Naw, I'll just keep climbing in a window the way God intended,” Clint said. 

The room wasn’t just a room. It was like one of those extended stay hotels with a small kitchen and eating area, a couch in front of a TV bigger than Clint’s and, through an open door, Clint could see the large bedroom. It was nice, like _nice_ nice. 

“Okay, so I see now why you're not in a rush to move in with Cap,” Clint whistled. “This is fancy.”

Bucky just hummed in acknowledgment. Once the door closed behind them with a whir of locks he seemed to run out of steam. He stood in the center of the living space, hands hanging down at his sides, seemingly lost in thought. Clint looked around, hoping for inspiration of what to do. Clearly today had been rough. He wasn’t sure why Bucky had even asked him to be here. But he _was_ here so time to man up and do something. Hopefully he managed to do something helpful, not make things worse. One more look around didn’t reveal any clues and Bucky was still just standing there.

“Hey, Buck, what do you need?” Clint moved closer, wanting to reach out, but he resisted the urge. That could be a bad idea right now. “What can I do to help?” He pitched his voice low and soothing.

There was a pause, then Bucky's eyes focused on him. “Right now all I want is a bath and then sleep.” 

“Okay, let's get you in the bath then.” Clint said. “Lead the way,” he turned with a grand sweeping gesture, flourish and bow included. Bucky rolled his eyes at him but Clint was happy to play the fool if it made Bucky smile. 

Bucky bent to unlace his boots, tossing them next to the door before heading in the direction of the bathroom. He shed his clothing piece by piece as he went, clearly not caring about the mess he left behind him. Clint’s mouth went a little dry as he followed. This was about helping Bucky, not sexy times, he reminded himself. He was going to be helpful and understanding and very much ignore how the muscles in Bucky’s back moved when he pulled his shirt off over his head or how good his ass looked in his tight black boxer briefs when his pants hit the floor. 

The now mostly naked Bucky was turning on the taps to fill the tub in the corner of the luxurious bathroom. Clint leaned a hip against the marble countertop, crossing his arms across his chest and wondering now that they were here what his role in _bath and sleep_ was. 

“Jesus, that thing is huge,” Clint commented on the frankly ridiculously sized jacuzzi bathtub that filled the corner of the room. Because life hates him he spoke just as Bucky dropped his briefs. Clint resolutely kept his gaze above the waist, feeling himself go hot. Bucky raised his eyebrows while Clint made desperate eye contact. 

_Do not look down._

“I mean the tub, the tub's big, not that you're not big, you're big too, it’s just that I was talking about the tub not your…” Clint petered out, his face burning, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Bucky laughed, though it wasn't much of one, just a tiny snort and twitch of his lips. With a small shake of his head, he chose to take mercy on Clint and just move on, picking up a bottle from a cluster of various products on the edge of the tub. He dumped some pink goo into the rising water. “Can you light that?” he asked, tipping his head in the direction of the candle on the sink counter next to Clint.

“Sure, I can totally do that.” Clint fumbled the lighter that was tucked in amongst the products that covered the counter but managed to light the vanilla scented candle without any incident. “So you've got, like, a lot of products.” Clint cringed internally; god he felt so dumb. 

Bucky looked around as if just noticing the lotions, creams, and serums that covered every surface in the room. “Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. “It’s nice to feel...nice.” 

Clint tried to not think about how many years Bucky went feeling the opposite of nice and focused on how awesome it was that he clearly was taking advantage of the ability to care for himself now, even if it looked like a Bath & Body Works had exploded in here. The tub was almost filled and Bucky dipped a hand in it to test the temperature before climbing in. He sighed when he lowered himself into the warm water and Clint was suddenly overwhelmed with how beautiful he was. 

The steam from the hot water had his hair curling and his skin glistening. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back as he slipped deeper, the water moved, sloshing and lapping against his chest. Clint couldn’t decide where to look: Bucky’s exposed throat; the bubbles clinging to his chest; his mouth that had parted as he slumped, leaning back against the edge of the tub. Clint was captivated by the fan of his eyelashes against his cheeks when Bucky opened his eyes with a slow blink. They stared at each other for a long beat.

Clint moved forward as if pulled. “It smells good -- is that strawberries?” he asked, popping a bubble that had floated up. 

“Yeah.” Bucky’s voice was soft as he looked up at Clint. Clint didn't like standing above him like this so he sat on the ground next to the tub facing Bucky, legs stretched out. Bucky blinked but didn’t protest when Clint put his arm on the edge of the tub, his forearm resting against his. They sat like that for a minute, just looking at each other, the room filling with steam and the bubbles rising. Finally Bucky leaned forward to shut off the tap before the tub overfilled. Clint hadn't been particularly aware of the sound but in the sudden absence of the running water it seemed very quiet in the bathroom.

When Bucky leaned back again he kept sliding down until his head was submerged. The tub was very large but his knees came up out of the bubbles as he did so. Clint found himself questioning his sanity since he had never looked at someone's knees and felt such affection before. After a moment Bucky re-emerged, water streaming down his face. He pushed his wet hair back and reached for one of the bottles clustered on the corner edge of the tub. 

“Can I help?” Clint asked abruptly. Bucky turned his head, looking in his eyes with a small confused frown, his hand paused in midair. “With your hair,” Clint clarified, unable to resist reaching out to run a lock of it between his fingers.

“I can wash my own hair,” Bucky said. “I’m just tired. I'm not having a breakdown, Clint.” He sounded defensive.

Clint wasn’t going to touch the breakdown mention with a ten foot pole—he got it, he hated when people treated him like he couldn't take care of himself. “I know you can, I’m not trying to say you can’t. I just thought it would be nice -- like a nice thing I could do for you,” he said, trying to put how much he just wanted to help in his voice without sounding condescending. 

“You don’t have to,” Bucky said slowly, his eyes searching Clint’s face.

“I know I don’t have to, I _want_ to,” Clint answered, his hand trailed down to rest on Bucky’s shoulder, his thumb rubbed back and forth across Bucky’s wet skin. “Let me just do this for you?” he murmured, almost pleadingly.

“Okay.” Bucky’s shoulders slackened as the tension unspooled visibly from him. He picked up a bottle and handed it to Clint then relaxed back against the edge. Clint came up onto his knees and shifted until he was behind Bucky. He poured some of the shampoo into his hand, set the bottle back in its place, and rubbed it into Bucky’s damp hair. Bucky bowed his head and then slumped a little, the tension draining out of him completely as Clint pressed his fingers into his temple, crown and nape. He massaged Bucky’s skull while he worked, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, enjoying the feeling of his long strands sliding between his fingers. 

Bucky’s head was tilted back slightly and Clint was careful to keep the suds out of his eyes, wiping his forehead occasionally. At this point Clint was just massaging Bucky’s scalp, but Bucky was all but purring under his touch. He spread the lather across his shoulders, washing them while he was at it. Bucky pressed into his touch like a cat as he rubbed the heels of his soapy hands into his muscles.

Finally, he wondered how he would get the foam out of the hair without a shower head. “Gotta help me here a little, scoot up a bit,” he said, giving Bucky a little nudge.

Bucky slid forward and Clint scooped water up with his hand to wash away the shampoo, repeating the action until the suds were as washed out as they could be like this. His hands roamed across his shoulders and back when he was done, brushing aside the wet strands of hair that collected under his hands. Bucky slid back, resting his head on Clint's shoulder, his hair quickly soaking the hospital gown Clint was still wearing. 

Bucky made a small whine when Clint pulled away. “Just a sec,” he said as he yanked off the hospital gown. He leaned back in, pulling Bucky's head back onto his shoulder and continued to knead his back, Bucky pushing into his touch. Clint didn't shy away from the scars, but he kept any questions to himself. He could tell the cause of a few -- a bullet graze, a knife wound -- but there were a few he didn't know the cause of. He had his own collection of scars; maybe someday they'd compare and trade stories, but now was not the time for that. For now, he was content to run his hand over them, soothing away the last of the tension in Bucky's body.

After a while, Bucky turned his head enough to look at Clint. “You can get in?” Bucky said it quietly, a statement delivered with a question mark. Clint didn’t hesitate for a moment. He didn't like seeing Bucky look so unsure and wanted him to know just how on board he was with that idea.

“Sure, yeah, lemme just,” He stood quickly racing for his belt. Bucky turned slightly to watch as Clint undressed. He realized starting with his belt had been a mistake right away since he still had his boots on, and kneeling so long ment his legs were all pins and needles. There was an awkward hop or two as Clint struggled out of his clothes. A few bottles were knocked off the counter and there were many muttered curses before Clint was finally naked; one sock may have ended up in the sink.

Bucky laughed at Clint’s antics, this time the full, open, real honest-to-goodness laugh. It made Clint’s heart lift. Bucky’s laugh had beat out the gurgle of a coffee pot as his favorite sound in the world a few months ago when he’d heard it for the first time. He was totally okay with looking like an idiot if he could watch Bucky's eyes crinkle the way they did when he smiled fully.

Bucky leaned forward as Clint clambered in behind him. The hot water felt amazing, and was made even better by the way Bucky immediately sank back into him. Bucky fit perfectly into the open vee of his thighs, his back resting against Clint’s front, head resting on his shoulder, with Clint’s arms wrapped around him to hold him close. The heat from the water soaked down into his bones and for the moment he was able to let go of his worries and relax. They simply stayed like that, enjoying the warmth and closeness for a while. 

After a bit, Clint reached over to grab one of the bottles labeled body wash and got to work lathering and scrubbing Bucky's chest as fully as he had his back earlier. He slid his hand up and around Bucky's waist, his fingers spreading wide across Busky’s belly. He couldn’t resist playing with the hair there. Bucky twitched away and made a small sound that sounded suspiciously like a stifled giggle.

“Ticklish?” Clint murmured, he was pressed so close to him that his lips brushed the side of Bucky’s ear, who shivered in his arms. He wondered if he could feel the smile on his lips.

“No,” Busky said firmly in response to his question. Clint _hmm’d_ in acknowledgment, deciding he would investigate the truth to that claim another day, but for now he focused on keeping his touches firm and soothing to avoid any further _not-_ tickles.

“Feeling better? ” Clint asked. As much as he was enjoying this, the whole reason they were here was because he wanted to help Bucky.

“Much, but I could be even better.” Bucky looked over his shoulder at him, watching Clint through his eyelashes.

 _Flirting_. _That was definitely flirting,_ Clint suddenly realised.

“Oh yeah?” His body knew exactly how he felt about that but he couldn’t help the tinge of worry that came with the surge of interest he felt. This was good, more than good, far better than he thought this night would be going. But what if it was too much, too fast? They were still so new and after today was this a good idea? 

“Yeah, I bet you could be _better_ too,” Bucky said this with an indecent wiggle that made Clint jolt. 

He grabbed Bucky by the hips to hold him still. “You know you're always calling Steve a punk but you are a _brat_.” His voice was only a little strained, he was pleased to note.

Bucky smirked, “What are you planning on doing about it?” His eyes held a challenge that fully put Clint’s worries to rest. _Well, alright then_. 

“I have a few ideas.” Acting on instinct Clint reached up, buried his fingers in the hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck and pulled slightly till his head tipped back. Bucky responded very positively to this. His eyes slammed shut and the desperate whine that escaped him was now Clint's _new_ favorite sound in the world. Clint tilted his head to bring their lips together. The angle was a bit awkward but absolutely worth it to have Bucky's lips part under his and their tongues slide together. 

Clint tightened his grip on Bucky’s hip and pulled him in, rougher than he'd meant to be, but judging by the way Bucky moved with him, pliant, and the way he groaned against Clint’s mouth, he figured it was okay. 

He released his grip on Bucky's hair to soothe his hand down the planes of Bucky’s chest, hard with muscle, and flicked over a nipple with his thumb. Bucky groaned, his head falling back onto Clint's shoulder and his back arching. Clint bent his head down to kiss Bucky's shoulder where metal met flesh as he slid his hand across to tweak the other nipple. His lips trailed up Bucky's shoulder and neck until he got to the soft spot behind his ear where he sucked the patch of hot skin in his mouth, relishing the soft moan it pulled out of Bucky.

Clint finally slid his hand down Bucky's stomach to wrap around his cock, and the way he moaned made Clint’s stomach lurch with pleasure. He set up a smooth rhythm of stroking, uninterested in prolonged teasing, just wanting to make Bucky feel good. The water swirled and splashed around them and the air smelled strongly of vanilla and strawberries. 

Bucky shivered and shifted against him, making little noises of approval at the back of his throat. He was gripping the edge of the tub, his head lolling on Clint's shoulder, mouth parted and chest heaving, more out of breath then Clint had ever seen him at the gym. He pressed into every point of contact like--well. Like he hadn’t been touched in forever, more or less. Clint closed his eyes, just for a moment; seeing how his touch affected Bucky was overwhelming in the best way possible. 

Bucky’s whole body was tensed and hard, breaths coming in quick, sharp heaves. “That’s good, sweetheart, go ahead, you’re alright,” Clint murmured into his ear, letting his lips brush the edge of it. And that was it, Bucky was pumping in Clint’s tight grip, cock pulsing and spilling into the water. He slumped back against Clint, who was now very aware of how hard he himself was. Clint couldn’t help the small sound that escaped him as Bucky stretched like a satisfied cat, pressing against Clint in a particularly delightful way.

Bucky twisted to face Clint. “Your turn.” The hungry look on his face had the small amount of thought left in Clint’s head exit stage left.

“Oh, okay.” Clint let himself be manhandled until he was sitting on the edge of the tub leaning back against the tiled wall. The air was warm and humid but still cool on his skin after the heat of the water. He didn’t have long to feel it though before Bucky surged over the distance between them and kissed him. He slid his hands up Clint's sides, the metal one warm from the water. Clint grabbed on to him for balance, rubbing his thumbs into the hollows of Bucky’s shoulders and trying to kiss back with some finesse. 

Bucky curled his fingers around Clint’s ribs while he ducked down to mouth at his neck. His soft, damp lips were very distracting and Clint had to remind himself to not grip onto Bucky too hard. The scrap of teeth had him gasping and knocking his head back against the tile.

Bucky pulled back, a wicked smile on his face, then began to kiss and nibble his way down Clint's chest. Even knowing exactly what he was doing, it was still a shock when Bucky’s mouth closed around him. A breathy and high _“Fuck,”_ escaped him. The initial contact alone was enough to drive him wild, but it was the way Bucky looked up at him that forced him to bite his lip, trying to focus so he didn’t come too quickly. Bucky’s tongue did something unfair that made him feel like he was being turned into a puddle and he was just going to melt right into the water. 

The fight to maintain any dignity was a losing battle, not that he’d ever had much to start with. He put a hand against the wall to steady himself as he realized he really wasn’t going to last. Bucky must have felt it coming—maybe the way Clint spasmed slightly right before tipping over the edge—because he pulled back to watch him while he jerked him through his orgasm, licking his lips and concentrating so hard he could have burned a hole through Clint with his gaze.

“Wow,” Clint said with a slightly hysterical giggle. He always felt a little high after he came and he still felt like he was going to liquefy entirely and run down the drain.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, breathless. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Yeah, sure thing, no problem,” Clint gasped. It was a stupid thing to say, but he was too stunned to think straight. Heh, _straight_. Also, though, Bucky had just thanked him. So that’s . . . a thing that happened. 

Clint slid back down into the water, landing in Bucky’s lap. They ended up tangled up together; the tub was big but they were both large men. For a time they just stayed there, pressed together and trading a kiss. Both of them were too out of it to make it much of a kiss, just a hot press of wet mouths and shared breath. Most of the bubbles had dispersed and the cooling water felt good on his over-sensitive skin.

Eventually the water became uncomfortable and without having to speak they clambered out of the tub. Clint pulled the plug to let the water drain while Bucky grabbed them both a big fluffy towel. They dried off, in each other's space far more than the large bathroom required. Clint wrapped his towel around his waist as he watched Bucky dry his hair with his. 

When Bucky picked up a brush from the counter Clint moved in close and took it from him. “Let me,” Clint said, looking Bucky in the eye, who raised his eyebrow in question. “Please?” Clint gave his most winning smile.

“Okay,” Bucky conceded with an amused shake of his head. 

Clint moved behind him, running the brush through his wet hair. From his roots all the way to the tips, taking the time to carefully brush out any knots along the way, until Bucky’s hair lay smooth. He was so focused on not pulling any tangles he hadn’t noticed when Bucky’s eyes closed. It was only as he finished and he looked at Bucky in the mirror that he saw how peaceful he looked and his heart clenched. He was staring when Bucky’s eyes fluttered open. There was a pause where they stood there staring at each other in the mirror before Clint reached around Bucky to put the brush down on the counter and drop a kiss on Bucky's shoulder as he did so.

Bucky smiled before he pulled away to hang up his towel and blow out the candle. Clint started to pick up the bottles he had knocked over earlier, but quickly realized he didn’t know where they belonged. 

“It's fine, leave it for tomorrow,” Bucky said. “Bed, now.” 

Clint hung his own towel and followed him out to the bedroom. Bucky pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants and tossed a pair of boxers that had little Captain America shields on them to Clint. He pulled them on with a chuckle while Bucky turned off the lights. They were both still slightly damp when they climbed into the bed. Still warm from the bath, the sheets were cool and soft, the mattress clearly very expensive and very nice. It barely dipped when Clint rolled toward the center of the bed, stuffing a pillow under his head. 

Bucky turned his back and scooted backwards until he was close to him. Clint wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him in tight to him. There was a brief sorting of limbs and a scuffle over the pillow situation until they settled quietly. Their legs tangled together and Clint’s hand pressed against Bucky’s chest over his heart. 

“Alright?” Clint whispered, propping his chin on Bucky's shoulder, looking down at his face in the dark. Bucky _hmmed_ , a small, content sound, his eyes already closed and his breathing slow and even. Clint tucked his face into the back of Bucky’s neck. His hair was wet in Clint’s face but his heart beat slow and steady under his hand. 

“I know it doesn’t seem like I can take care of myself, but I’m going to take care of you, I promise.” Clint said quietly, not even sure if Bucky was awake to hear him or not. Bucky didn’t say anything but his hand came up to take Clint’s, interlacing their fingers and holding tight.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr ](http://mollynoble.tumblr.com/) if you want.


End file.
